


We'll Go Somewhere Safe

by Ricecakes123



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Based on Motherland Finale, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Grief/Mourning, LGBTQ Female Character, Motherland spoilers, Raylla angst, Scylla Ramshorn needs a hug, Spoilers, how I imagine Scylla's reaction to Raelle's fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecakes123/pseuds/Ricecakes123
Summary: A short story of how I imagine season 2 of Motherland Fort Salem will play out.Scylla reacts to news to finding out that Raelle is--to everyone's knowledge--dead.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 5
Kudos: 88





	We'll Go Somewhere Safe

Scylla reads the small letter again, ignoring the creeping thought of how anyone was able to find her anyway. Her cloudy blue eyes roam over the sloppily handwritten words again: _It is with deep regret that I inform you that Private Raelle Collar has been killed in action while on a rescue mission in China._ A drop of water falls on the paper, blurring the ink a bit right next to her name, and she doesn’t even realize she’s crying. All her senses leave her, only leaving her with the sense of her own heartbreak. It crawls up her throat and squeezes, choking the life out of her as she reads again.

She can’t believe it. She just _can’t believe it_. No, no there’s no way she’s dead. This must be a mistake of some sort. Scylla reads again, hoping to find some misunderstanding or maybe come to find that she misread the letter. Maybe Raelle is just missing or the army got her confused with another soldier on another mission. She’ll believe anything before believing that she lost Raelle.

_"Whoever you are. Whoever you were. No matter what happens, no matter what anyone else thinks…I’m with you."_

A sob rips from her and her head falls into her hands. The letter crumples in her hand but she doesn’t care. It’s brought her nothing but sadness and pain. Everything hurts; a headache forms from her crying, her heart aches from the grief. Loneliness sinks in. She tries to ignore the different sets of footsteps on the stairs and all through the house. The look on Willa’s face—on everyone’s face—when she first arrived sent a bout of fear through her, though she ignored it. She’s been through worse, especially within the past few weeks, so the harsh glares of her comrades didn’t bother her. But that was before the letter came.

Willa had practically thrown the letter at her, a hard disapproving glare plastered onto her round face. Her light gray eyes—Raelle’s eyes—had looked at her with a freezing coldness that chilled her to the bone. Those silver orbs were void of any comfort or softness that Scylla _always_ found in Raelle’s eyes.

 _“I thought you were ready, Scylla,”_ Willa had said to her, shaking her head and pacing around the small bedroom. _“I really thought you were. I trusted you with this very important task and you_ assured _me that you were capable.”_ She tossed the letter at Scylla, those light eyes burning a hole into her soul, and stormed out of her room, leaving her alone with her grief.

Willa’s right; Raelle was her mission, and it should’ve been an easy one at that. That’s what they told her, anyway. Sure, it would take some time and finesse, but overall, it was supposed to be a simple mission. The operative word here being, _supposed_. She wasn’t making this easy.

_“Come with me,” she says, nodding deeper into the woods, smiling at Raelle with the same look of suggestion that always seems to appear when the blonde is near her._

_Raelle shakes her head and looks down at her muddy uniform. “I’m all gross—”_

_“No you’re not,” Scylla laughs and reaches for Raelle’s hand, though it falters. She steps away from her, already starting down the slightly worn path, and she stops to turn back to her. “Live a little!”_

_It’s a simple plan. Raelle comes with her willingly and doesn’t question when she’s given the salva. Scylla smiles as she rises above her and Raelle is quick to follow. Her light blue eyes shine brighter as the salva works its way into her system, carrying her up to Scylla’s height. The rope around her ankle grows taut the higher she gets, but she doesn’t look down like Scylla expects her too. No, her eyes stay focused on the brunette across from her, grinning from ear to ear. That grin never leaves her face even as Anacostia and the other fixers leave the med bay._

From that first look at her cheeky grin, Scylla was doomed.

Scylla picks her head up and stares at the bare wall across from her. No. No, she refuses to believe that this is her fault. She did what she thought was right. She chose Raelle over everything that she knows, over everything that she believes in, over everything the Spree taught her. When she closes her eyes, Scylla can still feel Raelle pressed up against her as they slowly dance to the soft music playing at Charvel’s wedding. She can still feel Raelle burrowing her face into Scylla’s hair and smiling against her neck as she whispers, “I love you.” This isn’t her fault. The army is to blame. _General Alder_ is to blame.

Looking at the crumpled up letter once more, Scylla is transported back to when she was sixteen. She remembers the way her house looked in the afternoon sun, she remembers seeing serious blank faces of the military police waiting outside for them as they came home, she remembers the scared look on her parents’ face as they got out of the car and surrendered themselves willingly and she remembers the bone-chilling sound of their screams of mercy and pain as they were killed.

Why does the army have to take away everything that she loves? How could they have allowed Raelle to be hurt? Where was her unit? Why didn’t they protect her? So many times she’s heard Raelle speak about the “benefits of the unit,” how they’re supposed to be there for you. Where was her unit? Where was Abigail? Where was Tally?

Would anything have changed…if _she_ had done things differently? Scylla groans and flops onto her pillow, burrowing her face into the fabric, another round of tears spilling from her eyes. If only she had just taken her away from the wedding and to the beach, to their safe spot, then none of this would’ve happened. Actually, no, no if only she had just rejected this mission. If only she stayed away from Raelle, refusing to get involved with her. If only—No! No, Raelle was—is the best thing that ever happened to Scylla. She can never regret meeting her, no matter what Raelle says.

_“I’m sorry we ever met, Scyl.”_

_“Well, I’m not,”_ is what she wishes she had said back, stretching her arms out as far as they’ll go against the chains to try and grasp her. She wishes she fought more for her, fought to _prove_ how much she still loves her. She knows she screwed up, she owns that, but she can change. She _wants_ to change for Raelle.

Grief soon melts into a maddening anger. She’s angry at the Spree. She’s angry at the army. She’s angry at herself. She’s angry at _Raelle_. Why wasn’t she more careful? Why didn’t she come back to her? Why didn’t she give her a chance to change and make things right? Why? Why? Why?

_“Nothing ever really dies. Life becomes death, which becomes life again, over and over.”_

Except Raelle. Raelle is really dead. The love of her life is really dead. All her hopes and dreams are really dead. Everything she has ever dared to love is really dead, and she is left alone. Scylla’s anger bubbles up and she wants to throw that damned letter away and out of her life, but she can’t bring herself to do it. It’s her last piece of Raelle, of what could’ve been, and a reminder of when something truly mattered to her, and after everything she’s experienced in the warmth of Raelle’s love, this tiny piece of paper with messy handwriting is _more_ than enough and way more than what she deserves.


End file.
